A Light Among Shadows
by a-person-with-a-fanfiction
Summary: They thought he was dead, but he wasn't. He still lingers with the evil that lurks behind the hunters. Literally and figuratively, he is the light in the dark forests of night. He is Max Lightwood. COG and further.
1. Chapter 1

**The Mortal Instrument Series belongs to Cassandra Clare. As are all characters mentioned here. **

Chapter 1- Unfair

'Days were numbered'- yeah, he knew that.

'To love was to destroy' -he may have heard Jace mutter it under his breath once or twice.

'Life isn't fair'- wasn't that a euphemism all children have at one point or another? In his nine years of existence, it certainly applied to Max; his life was certainly unfair.

Being the youngest of the Lightwood family, Max was excluded from a lot of activities. He wasn't allowed to train with his elder siblings, Alec, Jace, and Isabelle. He wasn't allowed to accompany them on their demon-slaying adventures. Instead, he was stuck at home, in the Institute; with his parents, Hodge, his beloved manga books, and that damnable cat, Church.

The fact that he was left out was the very thing that he hated the most---loathed, abhorred, abominated, despised; not knowing what was happening just because he was too young. But he wasn't ignorant; Max would get feelings that something wasn't right.

They'd barely returned from the ancient city of Idris, Alicante. But soon, they would return to the Shadowhunter city where the Clave ha recently signed the new Accords. Max believed the Downworlders to be uncivilized, conspiring against the Nephilim until an all out war was among them. A battle between Angels and Demons, it seemed.

The moment Max returned with his mother from Idris, he knew something was wrong. Heck, he knew things were bad at the airport when Maryse had let him get that Naruto book. She kept silent for the whole trip, only curtly answering his questions with a 'yes' or 'no'. Once he received a 'you'll get grape juice on your seat' to a totally unrelated question -which had actually been 'are we landing soon?' -all while glaring at the bag of peanuts handed to him by the flight attendant.

The bad vibe he had just turned to worse when he arrived home, leading to some sort of quarrel between Jace and Maryse; Jace left home shortly. A creepy gray-haired woman, Inquisitor Herondale, showed up and every moment she wasn't screaming at his mother, she was glaring at him and his siblings as if their very existence was an inconvenience to the world. Then everyone disappeared for a whole night to take out some demon cruise ship. His father was injured pretty badly and others were too. Some Shadowhunters hadn't even returned: Malik, creepy -gray-and-really-mean -old-hag Lady--- Max didn't think her death _that_ unfortunate--- and countless others. Max didn't need to be told what had become of them, he already knew. They died just as everyone did at some point. And a week later, his mother announced that they would be traveling back to Alicante.

The day of their departure date, Max sat in one of the red seats in the library, trying to pass the time waiting for his siblings. Maryse was foraging in Hodge's old desk, looking for notes, records, and "official grown-up business"; he hated that term.

"Max"

"Yes, mother?" Max inclined his head toward his mother, who had clearly found the papers she needed and was in the process of placing them in a folder.

"Please call your siblings to the library"

"'Kay." He rose from the comfortable, over-stuffed chair and walked to the double wooden doors. One hand on the handle and the other holding on to his Naruto book, he yanked the door back and looked back at his mother before stepping into the hallway and began his search for the elder children.

Finding the others wasn't hard, even considering the vastness of the Institute. His siblings had their habits and were quite easy to find. Isabelle, of course, would be in her room contemplating what to wear with multiple of outfits thrown in disarray manner around her room. Or she would be in the kitchen, attempting to unintentionally murder an unfortunate someone with her dastardly meals. Max shuddered at the thought and wondered why no one had grabbed Maryse and shook her while screaming why she hadn't taught of teaching her daughter how to cook.

Alec, the oldest Lightwood child, would without a doubt be wherever Jace was. Either that or locked up in his room, doing whatever the hell it was he did.

Jace. Now, there were a multitude of places in the almost empty household that Max could imagine Jace's location to be. His adoptive brother was more active than his siblings and didn't stay in the same place for a very long period of time. But as Max was just in the library, he could eliminate the possibility that Jace was there.

_Now only about 120 rooms left to check. __**If **__Jace is even at home…._

The Weapon's room, the greenhouse, his own room, the kitchen, or the big room with the grand piano and harp, Max could check all these places but Jace would have already gone to another room by the time he'd arrived. He could go with the more favorable option: let Alec run after Jace; his brother seemed _very _apt at finding Jace wherever he went.

Vowing to himself that he wouldn't take _forever _tracking down his siblings, he made the decision to check Isabelle's room first. He silently thanked the Angel when he found his sister pacing in her room, fuming about something that coincidentally rhymed with _truck_.

"Isabelle?"

Snapping out of her reverie, Isabelle lifted her head and met Max's eyes with her dark ones. Being the only girl in the family, Isabelle was eerily a near carbon copy of her mother, minus the eyes. While Maryse's eyes were an icy blue, Isabelle's was near black. "Yes?"

"Mom wants you in the library."

"For?"

"I don't know; she didn't say."

"Alright" Isabelle said with a sigh, reaching over to her suitcase to hastily zip it close and stalked out of the room with Max trailing behind. They reached the end of the corridor and set off in different directions, Isabelle to the library and Max to find his brothers.

And find Alec, he did. Or more correctly ----Alec ran him over.

"Whoa, Max!" Alec exclaimed and moved to steady his younger brother before he fell on his rear. "You have to watch yourself, okay?"

"I was looking for you. Mom wants to see you in the library. Where's Jace?"

"Jace is…he is…" Alec broke off; he sighed in exasperation and finally said, "I'll get Jace." With that, the older boy turned on his heels and walked in the opposite direction of where he was originally headed.

Having found all his siblings and delivered his mother's message, Max decided to head to the library. He paused when he arrived just outside; the door was slightly ajar and the soft mutters of tense sounding conversation spilled into the hallway. Church was sleeping at the corner of the door. He looked up and gave a soft meow.

Seeing that as his cue to enter the room, Max walked in. Standing in the immense room were five people. His mother was standing next to Madeleine, the two of them locked in a heated discussion. Isabelle was sitting in his abandoned seat looking at the two women with rapt attention. Jace was staring out the window, his gaze lost in the streets of New York. Alec was also present, but he seemed only interested in the leather of Isabelle's seat. Someone cleared their throat, causing everyone- who had all been oblivious to Max's presence in the room-turn to the young boy.

Only when the person cleared their throat did Max notice his father leaning on the wall in the dark shadows. Robert Lightwood was recently recovering from a wound laced with demon poison, and Max assumed that his father was still in the infirmary. The fact that Max hadn't noticed a big six foot five man in the room irritated him beyond measure.

"Thank you for bringing your siblings," Maryse told Max, giving him a firm look. "You are excused now."

_You're excused now…_

_._The words burned echoed into Max's mind. He hated being excused from the adults like he was some sort of puissant, unable to handle the stress or responsibility. He understood how his parents wanted to keep him young as long as possible, but Max could feel things stirring in the atmosphere, almost as if an unknown was just looming just outside the Institute walls, and he was powerless to do anything about it because he was out of the loop: too young to know.

"What's going on?" Max asked, looking between each member in the room.

"We're having a discussion," his mother answered "You're dismissed."

"What's going on? What's really going on? Why are we going back to Alicante? We've only returned two weeks ago---" he began, but was cut off again.

"This is official Clave business; we've been called back. That's all you need to know. If you don't mind, we're having an adult discussion and we would like some privacy."

Max made no move to leave the library; his blood was boiling with anger. Something was wrong; he could feel it deep in his gut, and yet they brushed him away because he was 'too young'. All eyes were fixated on him, but their expressions were guarded, too afraid to give something away.

"Why won't you tell me what's going on? Why is Hodge gone? Has he really gone to London? Does this have anything to do with Valentine?! I want to know what's going on!"

For a minute, there was nothing but silence. Jace had fully turned from his position by the window. Isabelle looked surprised at her younger brother's outburst, while Alec turned to stare at a book. Maryse and Robert glanced at each other before turning back to their youngest child. Madeleine--- God knows what she was thinking about--- met Max's eyes with her hazel ones. The gaze wasn't unfriendly, but was rather intrigued with a hint of admiration.

His father was the one who broke the silence, "There's an emergency Clave meeting for everyone to attend; that's why we're headed back. And as you're too young to participate in this conversation, please wait in the foyer until we've finished."

"That's unfair!!" Max screamed, stomping his foot in frustration.

"Maxwell, please," his mother begged, but he continued to stare at his father defiantly. When no one answered him or indulged his outburst, Max narrowed his eyes in indignation.

"Fine" he growled and with_ Naruto_ still clamped in his left hand, Max stormed out of the library, everyone watching his retreating back with a slight hint of sympathy.

Max sank into the wooden bench in the entryway and hugged the paperback book, to his chest. All he could think was that it was unfair for his family to dismiss him from his conversation. He only wanted to know so he could be prepared, was it too wrong to be forewarned?

Whenever his family talking about Clave business, they would decide that he was too young to engage in the topic, and he was sent from the room. He hadn't cared much when he was younger, two or three years back.

But he was older now and knew more than they thought he did. He could tell that everyone was on the edge, and from what he gathered from the whispered conversations, he'd deciphered that these matters were extremely hazardous, as if it were a war that could ravage the Earth and destroy all humanity and mankind was brewing. His kind were Nephilim: the hunters of demon-kind. They were the only stop-gate between the demons and their goal to destroy everything in their paths; their lives were spent fighting that eternal battle. But his family had never before treated their obligations as if it were a lost cause or incredibly dire…never.

All Max knew was that Valentine, a _very _bad Shadowhunter, had allied himself with demons and wanted to destroy the Clave using two out of the three Mortal Instruments.

He wanted to know more about Valentine. Why was he fighting with demons? Why did he want to destroy the Clave? Why did he want the Mortal Instruments? His parents acted as if they knew Valentine personally. What were their connections to him? Every time Valentine was brought up, Max was sent to another room. Or whenever he asked, the person he was asking would flinch and then respond with '_You're too young to be concerned with stuff like that'_ or _'This is hardly the time' _or _'You're a bit too young to know.' _

He was always brushed away, and he hated it. It was unfair. They underestimated him too much.

A _thud _reverberated throughout the empty foyer. With a sudden, violent movement, Max had struck the wood with his small fist. He repeated that three more times to vent his frustrations before looking down at his now bruised hand.

He'd be like Naruto, he thought. Always brushed off, ignored, and underestimated. But like Naruto, he would get stronger and prove himself. He decided that he'd become strong enough for his age not to matter anymore. He'd be stronger than Jace, Alec, Isabelle, and his parents all together. And then everyone would regret keeping information from him. He would be relentless I his quest to become powerful.

Chatter resounded down the corridor, signifying the ending to the family meeting, sans the 'young one'. Max stood up, his family had finally finished and now they would wait for the warlock to open a Portal to Alicante. Everyone crowded the elevator with their baggage and went down.

They passed the pews and bid their father farewell; he was staying for another day to recover from his injury and then would be joining them, and went to the back of the old cathedral just as Robert went back up the elevator.

Max, standing next to Isabelle, took the time to observe the group. Isabelle was playing with her braided hair, Alec was shifting his weight and looked as if he was about to get sick, Jace looked like he was waiting for someone or something, and Madeleine was talking to Maryse, who was tapping her foot impatiently.

The iron gate creaked open, causing Max to look up.

A very tall man strode through it. He was unusually dressed. He had to be the warlock, Max assumed. As the tall Downworlder neared, Max could see his features quite clearer. He had almond shaped eyes that were a gold-green with silted pupils. He had a slight tan, and his black hair was gelled into spikes. He wore a white splatter-paint shirt, and rainbow trousers that were _too_ tight. And to top that off, he looked as if he had bathed in glitter.

Seeing Alec, the warlock gave a sparkling smile before turning to Maryse, who gave a curt nod. Alec flushed red and drifted even more away from his family looking obscenely ill. Max looked to Isabelle, who was smirking at her brother's embarrassment.

"Isabelle?"

"Mhmm?"

"Who's that?"

"That's Magnus Bane. The warlock who's going to open the Portal"

Max furrowed his brow. He recalled his siblings talking about that certain warlock. "'The sexy, sexy warlock?'" He asked, quoting his sister exactly.

Isabelle shifted and turned to her mother, to see if she'd heard, but to Isabelle's luck, Maryse was too busy arguing with the warlock on expensive prices. "Yeah. Yeah, that's the one"

"Isabelle?"

"Yeah?"

"What's sexy?"

Isabelle flushed red. As red as Alec had. "Uh…."

She didn't have time to finish her sentence; she was interrupted by a horrible, blood-curdling scream. He heard his mother cry out, "Madeleine!"

Both he and Isabelle whirled around to the sound of clashing metal. There was a thick mist engulfing them and obscuring their vision. A big, dark shadow loomed above them, clutching a heavy-looking ax. It smelled foul and of death. Max gagged. Isabelle gasped, "Forsaken Warriors."

A black shadow cut across its path and dismantled it, Alec had thrown a seraph blade, which had pierced its chest and followed up with another seraph blade, slashing and hacking at the creature. The movement gave Isabelle time to recover and she lashed out with her golden electrum whip.

"Move to the Portal!" Alec commanded.

Max couldn't see. He was overwhelmed with the ambush, and paralyzed with fear. He backed up against the wall and fell to his knees, helpless and frozen. Where was Jace? His mother? Magnus and Madeleine? He couldn't see his siblings anymore through the Hell Mist, but he could hear them fending the monsters off.

Suddenly, a dark figure grabbed him. Max yelled, and started to squirm until he saw that it was his mother. He was safe in her embrace.

Holding her son, Maryse dashed through the Mist, and stopped at the Portal. She called over her shoulder, Max couldn't hear as her voice was lost over the harsh scrapping of metal, probably calling for the rest of her children to get to the Portal. For a fleeting moment Max saw Alec and Isabelle run towards him with Jace at their tail, then his mother jumped through the Portal carrying both of them into oblivion.

Max squeezed his eyes shut, and buried his head into his mother's shoulder; he hated Portal travel. When he felt his feet planted on solid ground, he opened his eyes. Alec and Isabelle tumbled out of the Portal after them looking disheveled.

The few Clave members that were awaiting them, the Consul, the newly appointed Inquisitor, Jia and Patrick Penhallow, and a few others looked on in confusion. Patrick was the first to speak, "By the Angel Maryse, what happened?"

"An ambush, Patrick. We were ambushed by Forsaken," Maryse answered before turning to her children with concern and noticed one notably absent. "Where's Jace?"

"He was right behind me," Isabelle answered.

Not shortly after that being said, Jace stepped through the Portal. He was carrying a dark-haired bleeding someone on his shoulder. _The warlock_ Max thought, but then noticed that he wasn't dressed in flamboyant attire and his hair wasn't gelled. Nor was he sparkly.

Jace had come carrying a dying Downworlder. _A Downworlder in Alicante_. The Clave was going to go nuts.

And Max's assessment was correct. The room had broken into a hysteric confusion. Everyone was speaking at once.

As usual, Patrick broke the awkward silence, "Is that a vampire---"

"_Simon!?"_ Isabelle ran towards Jace and the fallen Downworlder, who Max concluded to be the bleeding vampire.

"_Jace_---" Alec cried, joining his sister quickly. The person of his concern didn't seem to be the injured one on the ground, but was the one standing.

"A vampire?" Jia seemed to be just as exasperated as her husband.

The Inquisitor, a short plump man, was flailing his arms and ranting profusely about his title and that this was _his_ city.

Consul Malachi was snapping at Maryse, "Lightwood! What is the meaning of this? A Downworlder in the Gard? What are you playing at?"

Maryse looked as if she wanted to smack someone, namely the Consul.

As the room silenced, Jace looked to the Consul. "We were attacked by Forsaken. I was talking to Simon at the moment, and he saved my life. But he was injured and I couldn't leave him to die, I owed him as much"

"And so you saw fit to bring him here?" the Consul interrogated.

"If I left him, he would've died."

A hooded Clave member spoke, "He did save the life of a Nephilim. I say we let him here only until he recovers and then set him free."

From across the room, Max saw Isabelle flinch as the vampire, Simon, was compared to an animal.

Malachi sighed and spoke with irritation and disgust, "It's decided, but where do we store the Downworlder?"

Patrick gave his wife a glance, "We'll be happy to keep him in our house. Only until he recovers enough to go home."

"You may use the Portal to your house, so that you won't be seen." Patrick nodded.

"Come on" He mumbled, gesturing for the Lightwoods to step into the Portal and to his home. Alec helped Jace carry Simon and they both through, vanishing into the Portal. Isabelle followed, and Max grabbed onto his mother's hand as they plunged into the Portal once again.

They arrived in the Penhallow's house. Max, having just stayed there weeks before, recognized the room as their kitchen. He turned around as Jia and Patrick Portaled into their home. Jia left to arrange the rooms, and alert Aline and Sebastian, their cousin who was visiting from Paris.

"Okay," Patrick announced "The vampire---Simon-is that his name?--- He can have the guest bedroom; the curtains are dark in that room, so he should be safe. Isabelle, you're going to be in Aline's room. Alec and Jace can have the attic room. And Max--- sorry bud--- you'll share with your parents. "

The Lightwoods nodded and thanked Patrick for his welcome.

Jia came into the kitchen, smiling "Come into the living room, it seems we have a lot of catching up to do. We can speak there where everyone is comfortable. Our nephew, Sebastian, is visiting from Paris; we'll introduce you."

The Lightwood party complied. Jia and Patrick Penhallow led them to a spacious and nicely decorated sitting room. Two dark-haired teenagers, one boy and the other a girl, were sitting on one of the four couches. They looked up when noticing their audience.

**AN:**

**I now have a Beta reader, so the first two chapters have been reposted after being edited. **

**Reviews are kindness, now make me smile! **


	2. Chapter 2

**As always, I don't own the Mortal Instruments series, that belongs to Cassandra Clare. As do all characters featured, unless further mention. **

**Chapter 2: Ignorance is Bliss **

The Lightwoods followed Jia Penhallow into a largely decorated sitting room with a few red leather seats surrounding a maple wood coffee table.

Two dark-haired teenagers, a boy and a girl, with their heads bent in discussion sat in the far loveseat. They both looked up to the sound of people entering the room. The boy rose with a grin and the girl followed shortly after.

"Sebastian, meet the Lightwoods, very good friends of ours," Jia introduced and turned to the Lightwood family with a smile. "This is Sebastian, our nephew. He's visiting from Paris. Elodie couldn't make it though."

Sebastian's grin grew wider as he took in the new guests. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so many things from Aline; I just couldn't wait for you to arrive"

The boy was tall-taller than both Alec and Jace with a slight muscular build, but unlike Alec and Jace, his muscles could be seen through his clothes. Sebastian's skin, an alabaster pale, contrasted greatly with his midnight black hair falling-lightly rumpled into his eyes and stopping at his jaw before curling. Unlike the others in the room, Max was not intrigued by the tall boy's looks or manners, but rather his eyes.

They were the same color of his hair, but if even possible, darker. Two holes of oblivion, endlessly dark and empty. They say the eyes are doors leading to the soul and if that was so, this boy didn't have one, Max thought gravely. He quickly averted his eyes as Sebastian gazed down at him, making him feel like the dark boy was sending him into a hollow grave with his cold stare.

Meanwhile, chatter continued in the room.

Isabelle and Aline, a short girl with shoulder length dark hair and almond shaped chocolate brown eyes, giggled as they caught up on their friendship and the latest fashion trends. And boys, of course.

Alec, attempting to strike a conversation with Sebastian, failed as the taller boy's thoughts were seemingly disinterested and didn't do so much other than smile pleasantly. Jace glared across the room, looking like he was sizing up Sebastian.

Maryse and Jia were talking about a popular Shadowhunter topic, the newly appointed crazy and _very _stupid Inquisitor; the Clave always seemed to nominate nut cases for the important job. All Max could decipher was that the two women went to school with him.

"Hey!" Patrick came downstairs after leaving the vampire in the guest room. The man was about 6 foot 2 inches and like almost every male Shadowhunter, muscularly built. He still maintained his youthful personality, clean shaven face, and even gelled his hair back. "Our vampire sleeping beauty is in bed, waiting to be kissed awake, just so you ladies know…"

The married women in the room and Aline shot him pointed looks, causing him to put his hands up in submission. "Yeeeaahh…kidding?" The boys in the room snorted and snickered. Max's mouth turned upward into a smirk. In the two weeks since he'd been around the Penhallows, he'd somehow forgotten that Patrick had a special sense of humor.

"I _was _kidding. Maryse? Jia? Ready to go?"

Jia nodded, "I'll get my cloak. Meet you at the front door."

Max consciously remembered that he still was holding his mother's sleeve as she started to pull away from him. "Mom, where're you going?"

"I have to get to the Gard: Clave meeting. That insufferable Consul… as if we conspired to bring a Downworlder into the Glass City…" the last statement was a mutter through her clenched teeth.

Max looked at his mother pleadingly and said in a whine, "Please don't go."

Maryse looked quite shocked, "Max, you're nine years old, stop acting immature. Besides, your siblings are right here." With her hand on his back, she pushed him gently towards Alec. "Alec, watch over your brother."

"Yes, mother. Come on, Max," Alec replied and led his brother by the arm upstairs. Max took one look back, only to see his mother walking towards the door without a word of farewell.

Max looked up at his brother's face as he trudged up the stairs. "What are we doing?"

"Going upstairs"

"Yeah, I know. What are we doing upstairs?"

Alec paused. "Unpacking"

Max frowned, confused. "But we didn't have time to take our stuff through the Portal.

"_We _didn't. Magnus did. He sent our luggage after us"

"But he's a _warlock_, isn't he supposed to hate us?"

"Magnus is nice"

"Magnus is _weird._" Alec flinched; he gazed back at Max as if to say something. Max looked at his brother expectantly.

Alec never responded; he shook his head and continued up the stairs. "I'll be in my room"

Max stared at his brother's retreating figure and frowned. Since when had his family gotten so odd? They hated Downworlders and the feeling was mutual on the other end as well. Not only that, but Alec had called Magnus _nice_. Alec absolutely detested warlocks. Surely, he had missed something while in Idris with his parents.

Max was interrupted from his thought when someone called his name. He had arrived at the room he was sharing with his parents. Sebastian was leaning on the door casually with his arms crossed.

"Hey, kid."

Max looked up, frightened; he hadn't seen or heard Sebastian and swore that he had been looking at the door only seconds before. Sebastian terrified the nine year old beyond measure, and it hadn't helped that Max was alone now. Reflexively, he took a step back.

"Whatcha doing, kid?" the teen asked. With a toss of his head, his hair parted to reveal soulless dark eyes. Sebastian smirked, liking the fear that radiated from the boy in front of him. His eyes bore into Max's, threatening to send him into eternal nothingness.

Max, even though frightened to the bone, found his defiance. "Unpacking."

"Do you need any help?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Your mom isn't here," Sebastian said with an 'innocent' smile. Max shivered, it seemed like Sebastian was insinuating that his mother wasn't there to protect him.

"Stay away from me," Max yelled as he ran up the stairs, leaving Sebastian with a cruel smile on his face.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

An hour had passed since the encounter with Sebastian. Max sat in a red leather seat with a book balanced on his knees, his siblings were still upstairs and Sebastian- _thank the Angel- _had mysteriously left the house.

Footsteps sounded against the wooden stairs and Alec and Aline arrived in view, engulfed in conversation.

"Are the Clave meetings long?" Alec questioned Aline.

"No, not really. But now with the Valentine mess, sometimes my parents don't come home until early morning. You're really lucky that you're not officially part of the Clave."

"Aline's right." Max jumped; Sebastian seemed to have materialized onto the loveseat across from him. "I've been here three days now and Uncle Pat and Aunt Jia sometimes don't come home for the night. Crazy stuff, the Clave meetings."

Max shifted uncomfortably; being around Sebastian made him uneasy. "Where's Jace?" he asked.

Aline was the one to answer, "I think he's still unpacking. I should go check on him," she added, seeming a little enthusiastic.

Alec scowled, "That's unlikely. Being Jace, I guess he's just sulking."

"Oh, why?" Aline asked, genuinely disappointed.

_You just want to do whatever Izzy said girls and boys do, make-out, _Max thought, sensing his mouth pulled into an identical scowl as his brother.

After a deep breath, Alec replied, "I don't know; Jace is Jace."

"Where's Isabelle?" Max asked, inquiring the location of his sister.

"She's watching over the vampire," Sebastian replied. "We wouldn't want him to sneak up and drink our blood, would we?" he asked a little mockingly.

Max flinched in response; he was more afraid of Sebastian than the vampire. At least his siblings seemed to trust the Downworlder.

"Hey, did you hear that Valentine-" Aline began to say.

Alec looked at his brother and cut Aline off, "Max, can you read in another room?"

"But, I'm reading here."

"You can read anywhere."

"He can read in the library," Aline offered; she waited until Alec nodded in approval before continuing with directions "Second floor, first room to the left."

Max rose from his seat and slowly dragged himself to the library. He grumbled to himself all the way there.

_What about Valentine? I want to know too…_

He opened the door to the library; the door creaked open to reveal a vast room with many shelves of books. It was small in comparison to the Institute's collection, but enough to sate Max's love for books. His eyes roamed the room, looking where to begin before landing at Patrick's old comic book collection.

Information on Valentine could wait, he decided.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Time flew since Max had immersed himself in comic heaven. It turned out that Patrick had been an old fan of manga as well as comic books.

There were the mundane favorites: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Amazing Spiderman, Incredible Hulk, Fantastic Four, Thor, X-Men, and Iron Man. There were also ones that were common in the Shadow World: 100 Bullets, Books of Magic, Crossing Midnight, Hellblazer, Lucifer, The Unwritten, Darkness, Witchblade, Rex Mundi, Impaler, The Walking Dead, GODLAND, and Vinyl Underground. There was even one with an explicit cover that Max didn't bother to look at twice before moving on to the manga books.

"We can talk in here-" Max heard Jace begin but he cut off abruptly when he spotted his youngest adoptive sibling. "Max?"

Max stood up hesitantly, knowing that he was about to be dismissed for the second time that day. He looked to Jace and Simon, the vampire, who seemed to have recovered.

"Max, we need to use this room. "

"But Alec already sent me out of the living room because they needed to have 'grown-up talk."

"Gotta do your duty to your country, kiddo."

"But where else do I go?"

Jace shrugged nonchalantly, "Your room?"

Max hung his head and stalked out the room. The vampire watched him pass, and Max automatically flinched and hurried to exit.

Simon hadn't seemed hostile at all, he just reminded Max of Sebastian with the midnight eyes. And, of course, the fact that vampires didn't have souls.

Max shrugged and decided that he could apologize to the Downworlder later. Now he was hungry, and cake was being served.

The hour hand of the Penhallow's Grandfather clock touched 8 and the hourly chime of bells began to sound.

Seated in the corner of the Penhallow's living room with plate of cake on his knees, Max flipped through _Naruto _unexcitedly. He had read the book three times already, and boredom was clearly written on the boy's face.

His siblings were mingling in friendly chatter with the Penhallows. Aline was flirting with Jace, as Isabelle was doing with Sebastian. Alec had come and collected Simon before reminding Max that his bedtime was in an hour.

Max complied without a protest of complaint. He was too bored to stay; right now there wasn't any fun. The young boy was _too _young to understand flirting. In his opinion it was dumb and his siblings- fearless warriors that they were- should know exactly how _stupid _they looked while engaging in the act. He wasn't going to stick around to watch Isabelle get drunk; the girl had already 5 glasses of wine and wasn't stopping in the near future.

That being said, Max headed to his room for the remainder of the night, his siblings and Aline calling goodnight while Sebastian offered to 'tuck him in and read him a bedtime story'. The creeper also was shameless to add the 'he would be glad to sing Max to sleep', which elicited a giggle from Isabelle and a glare from Jace.

Max entered the room he would be sharing with his parents. It had a queen size bed in the center of the room and a single size near the far corner by the window. The walls were painted a tranquil shade of blue. The bed sheets, a thick lavender quilt. There was a bathroom across from his 'bed'.

Max set his manga book gently by his bag and collapsed onto the queen bed. He hadn't realized exactly how tired he was. Exhaustion wracked through his small body and lured him into the gentle darkness of unconsciousness. He welcomed it gratefully, with the numbing rest it brought him.

OOOOOOO

_Max jolted awake. Something had interrupted his peaceful slumber. He wasn't in his bed anymore; he didn't know where he was. All he could see was blackness and he was in blackness. _

_There was a cold, hard feeling in his gut. Something was after him; he knew that much. He was running. Hiding. And lost, desperately trying to find his way. But to what? Where? Who was he anymore? He didn't know anything anymore. _

_A cold harsh laugh resounded, echoing across the darkness. _

_Max whirled, making a three hundred and sixty degree turn, searching for the source of the noise. The laugh came again, seemingly from underneath his feet. Max tried to stare down but all he could see was endless darkness. _

_The voice came again, this time talking. It was cold, hard, sinister, and succeeded in making Max freeze. "Come down, little angel" it crooned. "Come down and play"_

_Two hands as ominous as the darkness surrounding him, enveloped Max. He was being dragged down into shadow and toward the source of evil which was taking enjoyment in the Nephilim's despair. _

_Max writhed and struggled to no avail. He desperately tried to escape doom's hands and open his eyes. _

OOOOOOO

Max awoke with a shudder and groaned. He felt cold to the bone, but was sweating lightly. Light flooded from the lamp by the sink. His mother was home.

She stood by the foot of his bed and was dressed in her sleeping attire, a long white nightgown. Upon seeing her son's eyes opened, Maryse went to his side. "I didn't mean to wake you," she murmured softly.

"I….uh….I woke up on my own," Max stammered. Maryse nodded and pulled the quilt to his chin.

"You fell asleep without covers, again," she noted.

"I did."

"Where did you get this?" Max looked down. His mother had noticed the bruises on his knuckles, the ones he sustained from punching the wooden bench earlier.

He blushed and replied sheepishly, "I hit it on the wall when we were attacked."

His blush deepened in color as he watched his mother stroke his hand with her soft fingers before kissing it. Maryse was often seen as cold and stern, it was in these acts that her children (and husband!) knew what was true. She could be as comforting as any mother was, and stronger than any mother was.

"Mom, I'm afraid."

Maryse turned and looked at Max, eyes wide with concern. Well, of course he was afraid; they had almost been killed today. "Of what?" she asked, as if she wanted fight away all of his fears to make him feel safe.

"The dark," he lied. That was one of the differences between Max and his older siblings. Unlike them, he had never been afraid of the dark. Instead, he found it a bit peaceful. Not that he told Maryse that; he had pretended for years to be frightened of darkness so he could listen to the lullaby that she had sang to his other siblings.

Maryse merely nodded. Her other children ----and Jace----had been afraid of the dark; it wasn't a surprise that her youngest was too. After all, they _were _Shadowhunters and their object of target did lurk in the dark; it was a phobia common to most Nephilim children.

She gathered Max in her arms, forming a protective cradle, and while running her long fingers through his hair began to sing under her breath. Max closed his eyes slowly.

_  
__À la claire fontaine,  
M'en allant promener  
J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle  
Que je m'y suis baigné_

_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime  
Jamais je ne t'oublierai_

_  
Sous les feuilles d'un chêne,  
Je me suis fait sécher  
Sur la plus haute branche,  
Un rossignol chantait_

_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime  
Jamais je ne t'oublierai_

Max closed his eyes, now content. He could feel the sweet melody of the French ballad lulling him to blissful sleep. The chorus was his favorite lines and it reverberated through his head.

_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime_

_ Jamais je ne t'oublierai_

**So long I've been loving you**

** I will never forget you**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sunshine peeked through the spaces in the curtain, just gentle grazing Max's face with its warmth. The ray touched his sensitive eyelids, causing them to flutter awake. He groaned and flopped onto his stomach, hugging the fluffy pillow.

_Wait, what happened?_

He pushed himself from bed recalling the prior night's activities. He fell asleep, had a nightmare, woke up, Mom sang him to sleep, and now he was awake. The queen-sized bed was empty; his mother had left to another Clave meeting.

He grumbled some more while dressing and headed downstairs.

Surprise hit him when he found the kitchen crowded to the max. The adults hadn't gone to a Clave meeting as he'd assumed; his father had arrived.

Everyone was engaged in various activities. Alec, for some very odd reason, looked somewhat uncomfortable while seated on a stool with an apple in hand. Jace seemed lost in a thick book, oblivious to everyone else. Aline and Isabelle were in a corner of the kitchen looking over a fashion magazine. Maryse and Jia were in the process of cooking breakfast. Seated on the kitchen table; Patrick and Robert were talking and laughing. Lastly, Sebastian was observing everyone with a creepily calm smile plastered on his elegant face.

"Dad!"

Robert Lightwood looked up just in time to have a ball-of-80-pounds careen into his chest. "Max. How've you been?"

Max looked up smiling. His father was here now; there were more people available to take him places. He thought of all the stores that he could go to. The last time they'd been in Alicante, his father gave him a grand tour of the Glass City, explaining the history and visiting huge armories and bookstores. "A little bored. There's nothing really to do"

"I see."

"Hey, dad. Do you think we could go to the armory again today?"

"Probably; if there isn't a Clave meeting" Max's face fell, there was always a Clave meeting, he knew it. He had to agree with his mother; the Consul _was _insufferable. No scratch that, the _Clave_ was insufferable.

"Robert, did you hear? Aldertree is the new Inquisitor." Patrick interrupted Max's reverie.

Robert chuckled, "One nut job after another. Although," his voice dropped low to a whisper, clearly only meaning for Patrick to hear, but Max was able to catch part of it "I would rather the crazy bitch who actually knew how to activate a seraph blade than the brain-dead one._"_

Patrick burst out laughing and Max was shocked with his father's use of obscenities. His father was usually as stern as his mother. But then again, Patrick had the mystical ability to render all men in the vicinity to a limited maturity of eighteen years of age.

"He couldn't even tell apart a Pixie from a Drevak demon!" Patrick supplied. "I mean, pick an Inquisitor who can actually differentiate the Seelie Queen from a werewolf."

_Now, THAT'S exaggerration…._

"Maybe he changed," Max suggested; even though he thought that the Inquisitor was very weird, there was something foreboding about hearing that an Inquisitor was weak. He was a leader of the Clave and had to be stronger than the others that served. At least in Max's opinion.

Both men looked at the boy and said at the same time, "Highly likely."

"What was so bad about him when he was a kid?" Max wanted to know.

"You mean other than he had the IQ of negative two point three?" Patrick asked.

_Ok_, _I guess_ _the Inquisitor could be stupid _…..

"Well," his father began. "He's really weak. I remember beating the maggot up a few times myself. " Max looked shocked at the prospect of his father being a bully. "He was…well… "

"He was an arrogant bastard," Patrick cut in.

"That, too," Robert admitted. "But, he was engaging in some _flirtatious _activities with someone off-limits," he said with a wary glance at his wife.

Max looked his mother's way as well, thanking the Angel that she hadn't heard. He supposed that the Inquisitor had deserved that ass-kicking, but was as shocked that his father would be a little…_possessive?_

If his mother had heard, then, she hadn't shown it. And if she had, Max thought, he'd just bunk with Alec and Jace while Robert got _his _ass kicked.

Patrick snickered at his friend's insecurity, "Oh, come on Robert. Who's in charge of your relationship?"

"Hey, let it not be a repeat of two years ago."

"Oh, fine," Patrick grumbled.

Max snickered. Not only did Patrick Penhallow have the uncanny ability to make the men around him act a fool, he also had the gift of leading said men into painful conflicts with their wives. There was a lot of evidence to attest to that_. _

As soon as the two men had stepped away from the boy, Max remembered the last time Patrick had gotten his dad into hot water with Maryse.

_Max was in Alicante with his parents for the semi-annual meeting that keepers of the Institutes attended. Usually, they brought the spreadsheet documents for all of conflicts between Downworlders and demon activities. The Clave used these conventions to finds out what areas had the most demonic presence to assess where the wards between demonic realms and Earth were thinnest and the amount of Shadowhunters needed to station in those locations. _

_Hours before leaving the Glass City, the Penhallows held a departure party for the friends leaving Alicante. The festive event was held in their home. The women were in the kitchen while the men were in the living room. Children, such as Max, were with their mothers along with female teenagers. The male teenage Shadowhunters were either talking outside or with their fathers. _

_Unknown to the men, the wall separating the living room and kitchen were quite thin and the women could eavesdrop with no difficulty. It hadn't helped their cause that the men were rather loud and the topic of their discussion was incredibly inappropriate. _

_It shouldn't have been a surprise that Patrick was the one who'd initiated the subject. Max was seven at the time and had no idea- this day no idea- what they were talking about or why the tension of the kitchen had multiplied twenty-fold. If looks could've killed, the rage held in the women's eyes could have obliterated Lucifer and all his demons. _

_Max wasn't sure about why the women were all of a sudden highly irate. It had something to do with the word "banging" and "orgasm", but that was all Max could make out. Before he could ask his mother about it, she had become incensed with rage. _

_She was calm. And angry. And by no doubt scary. Very scary. And she traveled through the Portal and into their home in silence. Which were clear signs that someone was going to be hurt. _

_With very curt hugs to her other children, Maryse headed to the room she and her husband shared. Her husband followed her silently, no doubt a little afraid. _

_Suddenly screams sounded across the Institute. All the children dashed to their parent's room. Usually when they had fights, they would close their door and apply both a Locking Rune and a Silence Rune, so no one could interrupt or overhear their argument. _

_And surely they had done so. The only flaw was that Jace, standing by the door with amid amusement, had drawn a Magnification Rune over his parent's one of Silence. Their voices now carried over like a loud speaker, broadcasting throughout the whole Institute while they were consumed in heated argument. Max had no doubt that even Hodge, sitting in the library, could now hear them as well. _

_ "Jace Wayland," Isabelle hissed "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"_

_ Jace smiled, "What do you think I'm doing, dear sister?"_

"_Jace," Alec chastised, trying to hide the fact that he, too, was amused. "Eavesdropping on our parents fighting isn't very nice."_

_Jace looked at his stepbrother innocently," I haven't been dropping any eaves, I'm just listening on your parent's lovely discussion."_

_ "Jace---" Isabelle snarled in rage but was cut off by a loud slapping sound followed by Maryse's shrieks of obscenities at her husband and his failed attempts to calm his wife. Isabelle was now absorbed in the newly found form of entertainment. "By the Angel, what did Dad _do?_" _

_The Lightwood children found themselves morbidly curious; their parents were both respected and stern. The aspect of this fight was so mundane-like and lacking every ounce of dignity that the adult Lightwoods had. _

_Max revealed to his siblings what he'd overheard, how the women were pervied to a tantalizing discussion by the men involving those two words Max had learned earlier, commentating on the men's banter and exchange. Alec looked away with a blush. Jace openly chuckled, and Isabelle's jaw dropped. But Max was still confused. _

_Meanwhile, their parent's discourse was taking a rather heated turn. Maryse, enraged and provoked by her husband's participation in the ridicule, was unleashing all Hell and had raised her voice to full volume. _

_ "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THAT!!!"_

_ "Maryse-"_

_ "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING??!!!"_

_ "I wasn't-"_

_ "WELL OF COURSE YOU WEREN'T THINKING!! THAT'S THE OBVIOUS, WHEN DO YOU EVER??!!"_

_"Can we talk about this-"_

_ "HOW COULD YOU HAVE SAID THAT??!!"_

_"It was only a joke-" _

_There was a thump and a sound of heavy weight tumbling to the floor. Max looked surprised; his mother had hit his father and succeeded in making him fall to the floor. All he could hear now was his father groaning in genuine pain and mumbling something about "not being able to have any more kids."_

_ "MORE KIDS?!! YOU'RE LUCKY THAT I EVEN DO ANYTHING WITH YOU, AFTER WHAT YOU PUT ME THROUGH!!!!!"_

_Feeling that the quarrel wouldn't end well, Isabelle towed her brothers away from the door, only giving time for Jace to erase his Rune of Magnification and silence to radiate from the closed door. Innocently, Max asked the others what Maryse meant by "doing something with Daddy" only to make Jace fall to the floor laughing and Alec to turn beet red. _

_For the next few weeks, the Lightwood parents were left to wonder in vain why their children acted awkward in their presence. Both Alec and Isabelle would stare at the tablecloth while Jace would collapse in "spontaneous" fits of laughter, Max only stared at his parents in confusion. Even Hodge, who had apparently heard Maryse's assault on her poor husband, couldn't meet either Lightwoods' eyes. _

_The next time their parents went out hunting, Isabelle hit Jace in the head with a huge demonology textbook, stating that he had traumatized Hodge. _

……_._

Max still didn't understand what had been the big deal, it had all been confusing. Even now, the relationship between his parents seemed a little strained, but the results had been comical. He laughed as he reminisced. If it had been Patrick's goal to decrease the population of Shadowhunters, it was a success, as none of the families attending that party had had any more children to this day.

"Daydreaming?"

Sebastian's voice had brought him out of his pondering and back to the world. Time had evidently passed; all adult Shadowhunters had disappeared, he and Sebastian were the only ones left in the kitchen. "N-no" he stammered.

"Ya scared of me, kid? I'm not the bogeyman, you know. " Sebastian wasn't attempting to appear inviting, his lips were curled in a cruel smile, feeding off of Max's fear.

"Leave me alone."

"Fine," Sebastian smirked as Max turned and ran out of the kitchen.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Max hadn't stopped running until he reached Jace's room. Sebastian wasn't the person he displayed himself as, Max could feel it in his gut. He would act charming to the others, but wasn't afraid to show his true nature to Max. As the child was the youngest, Max was always brushed off and it was considerably safe, even if he were to tell anyone, to drop the glamours a bit. Also as the youngest, he was untrusting to those outside his family and didn't fall for Sebastian's games.

"Jace!" Max flung the door open and paused, panting.

Jace rose off his bed. "What is wrong Max?" He seemed very tired and equally disturbed.

"Sebastian is scaring me," the boy complained.

"What'd he do?"

"He-" Max cut off, he couldn't really describe what Sebastian had done, as he hadn't really done anything at all, not to harm him at least. There were no words to say about what he'd seen, and no one would believe him. "I don't like him"

"I don't either," Jace agreed.

"I don't trust him," Max added.

"Because you don't know him."

"It's not that; it's…never mind…" Max turned from Jace, heading back to the vacant hallway. There was no way _anyone _would believe him, there was no evidence to attest that Sebastian _had_ done anything.

"Ya scared of me, kid? I'm not the bogeyman, you know. " Sebastian wasn't attempting to appear inviting, his lips were curled in a cruel smile, feeding off of Max's fear.

Max shrank back, cowering, against the refrigerator. "N-N-no" he stuttered.

"What's that you said?" Sebastian placed both his hands on either side of Max's body, and leaned in.

Max cringed as Sebastian's breath, an icy bitter smell, fanned his face and his midnight hair tickle the tip of his nose. "N-no. I said no. I'm not afraid of you" He said defiantly, finally finding some courage.

"We'll see about that," His mouth curled into a snarl.

"Leave me alone," He ducked under Sebastian's arms and ran out of the kitchen looking back fleetingly, unfortunately meeting his eyes.

"Fine."

The black eyes that were always hollow now contained a barely controlled lust. A want, a need for bloodshed, to destroy. An eagerness to halt one's heart, to erase their existence.

There was just no proof that Sebastian had pinned him to the refrigerator and asked if he feared him. If he told anyone, they'd just say he was making it up, trying to get Sebastian in trouble. No, it was better to keep it to himself.

***********

Max made it a point to stay out of Sebastian's way; he kept to himself, in his room, dutifully reading his manga books. He only came downstairs when dinner- in the form of a cheese sandwich-was served. Thankfully, Sebastian wasn't present then, and Max didn't wait to see if he would. He returned to his manga filled sanctuary, hoping to keep himself relatively invisible before Alec could remind him of his bed time.

The night and most of the next day had past in a flash. Max, even though haunted by vague nightmares, slept the entire night and half the next day. He woke up, slightly disappointed that he had missed his parents in the morning, ate lunch and returned to his manga. Patrick, seeing that the young boy needed them far more than he did, was very generous to entrust Max with his _Angel Sanctuary_.

The boy was delighted, and now having something to do, ran up to his room to read the book.

Max must have dozed off because when he became aware of his senses, the sky was already dark. He shook his head, attempting to clear the sleep-induced haze from his eyes. Squinting, he scanned the room for his glasses. He found them on the nightstand and frowned; he hadn't remembered taking them off when he laid down to read.

He scrambled off the bed and to the night stand. The window was slightly open, the cool breeze blowing in. The wards shone through the curtains, illuminating the sky and the room. It was a particularly cloudy night for having been a clear and sunny day; the moon and stars out of sight.

Max brushed the curtains to the side and stared into the night. He was examining the ward nearest the house when he noticed a shadow cutting through the shining light. The shadow was moving surely and quickly up the tower. Max narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the figure; it looked like someone was climbing the demon tower.

The black mass reached the top in less than a minute, and in the next seconds the world was engulfed in darkness. With only the lights streaking through houses, unaided by the ward's light, Alicante looked obscure.

And then he heard it. Just beyond the hill where the East gate was.

Hisses and shrieks coupled with muffled cries of despair.

Without a minute to ponder what he was witnessing, Max sprinted down the stairs.

As expected, all teenagers, minus Jace, were in the living room. The newest edition to them was Sebastian, who seemed to have just returned from wherever he'd disappeared to earlier.

All Max could make out was that Sebastian had been with Clary all morning, she arrived the day before and was staying with someone called Amatis Graymark. And then he noticed that Sebastian was reading a manga book, a familiar looking manga book, too. Max didn't think he seemed the type.

Max squinted trying to read the title; he hadn't put on his glasses and could barely see. When Sebastian tilted the paperback as he turned the page he saw that it was _his _manga book: _Angel Sanctuary. _He was sure he had that in his room, and positive that it had been the very book that he had set down only minutes earlier.

"Hey! That's mine!" he couldn't help but blurting, making his presence known.

"This?" Sebastian held up the book, "Here you go kid."

Max snatched the book and withdrew to his sister's side, "My name's not kid."

Sebastian chuckled "I'm going to get some coffee," he said gesturing to the kitchen. "Anyone want some?" He left when the rest of the company shook their heads in refusal.

Once he had slipped through the door, Isabelle began to reprimand her younger brother. "Max, that wasn't nice."

"But it's my book," he tried to justify. "Isabelle?" he asked getting her attention again.

"Yes?"

"There were noises on the hills and I woke up, but does anyone climb the demon towers? For any reason?"

This time, Aline was the one to answer, previously absorbed in a novel. "No, it's totally against the Law. And besides, who would want to?"

"But I saw-" Max tried to protest, but was cut off by his sister.

"You probably imagined it."

"Max, it's late. Let's get you to bed," Alec intervened trying to soften his brother's coming tantrum.

"It is late. We should all go to bed," Aline agreed, rising from her seat.

Suddenly the window nearest Aline smashed open. Red talons reached in, grabbed her, and flew before she had a chance to scream again or reach for a weapon.

Alec had shoved his brother to the ground and Max struggled, desperately wanting to run to his room. Sebastian dashed from the kitchen looking stunned as Isabelle yelled at him to get the weapons before taking off after the demon.

"Isabelle!" Alec yelled, but was too late; his sister had already run into the darkness of the street. "Damn!" he cursed, not caring that Max was around and that he had to censor his language. He fumbled with his hidden knife and bow. "Stay in the house! I'm going after Izzy and Aline." And then, he too jumped through the broken window, leaving Max alone with Sebastian.

Once Alec left, Sebastian made his move and slowly walked towards the young boy.

"Someone climbing the demon towers; that's what you saw, didn't you kid?" he asked with a suspicious tone.

Max backed into the fireplace, but Sebastian kept his advance. He hastily tried to change the subject "The window. The demons could come in."

Sebastian smirked, "Oh, the demons won't come here. Not with me here" He seemed very confident.

"What makes you sure?" Max shakily tried for a smart comeback, as Jace would "Is it because your ugliness repels them?"

Sebastian's lip curled into a vicious snarl, and with a sudden move, reached for the fireplace. Max cringed and shut his eyes. He only heard thumps. Feeling that Sebastian wouldn't strike him, he opened his eyes slowly.

Sebastian was hammering firewood to the broken window, barricading it.

_So maybe he isn't that confident can keep the demons out…._

"Stay where you are. Don't move and stay down; you don't know what else would get in," Sebastian said. To Max it seemed like a threat and he obeyed without a word of protest.

"So you saw someone climbing the demon towers?" he asked again, this time sounding like he was controlling himself.

"Yes."

Isabelle tumbled through the door and looked around the room. Her eyes landed on her petrified younger brother and hurried to him. "Max!"

"I'm scared," he told her "Sebastian told me to get down." He didn't bother complaining about Sebastian's creepy line of questioning now. It wasn't the time.

"Sebastian was right," she said, holding her little brother in attempt to comfort him.

"Isabelle," he said pointing to a wound on her hand "You're bleeding."

"I'm going to get my stele and then I'll help you with your runes, Sebastian." Isabelle announced before heading to her room.

Once Isabelle had disappeared upstairs, the atmosphere in the room somehow became frigid and darker. Sebastian had stopped hammering and was now leaning on the window sill with his eyes closed in thought. Max frowned; he wasn't even finished and he surely couldn't be tired already.

Without a sound, Sebastian opened his eyes and lunged at Max. Max closed his eyes for the second time the night, bracing himself for contact. Instead, he felt a whoosh of air and opened his eyes.

Oddly, he found that they were in the kitchen; he could only assume that Sebastian had dragged him there, but with such power and speed, it seemed impossible.

And then a cold voice cut out through the darkness, coming from the shadows in the corner.

"Father said no evidence…"

Max was stupefied, Sebastian's father was dead. Who and what was he talking about?

"You ruined this for me, you _stupid little Angel!!" _An infinite amount of hatred was poured in the single word 'Angel'

"What are you talking about?" Max asked innocently.

"I'm talking about you, of course," the voice said again, malice poking through. Sebastian strode out of the shadow, holding a huge dagger. The look on his face made his features seem angled, like a maniacal lunatic. He didn't look friendly or concerned for Max's safety. In fact, Max had a gut feeling that the only thing in Alicante that would harm him that night was stalking toward him at the very moment, a murderous look shadowing his eyes.

"Don't kill me!" Max cried desperately. Sebastian laughed; it was an odd sound, cold and sinister

"You have done that yourself," he chuckled. "If only you hadn't looked out the window…. You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat. If you hadn't went to your siblings crying that 'there was someone climbing the demon towers,'" he added mockingly.

"I wasn't crying," Max retorted. "I was just explaining…."

"Same thing" Sebastian brushed off.

"But you do know that your mother isn't here to protect you now, don't you. I do admire that song she sang to you, though. It's so soothing, calming….."

Max stared, dumbfounded.

"Yes, I did hear her sing to you." He took a step closer. "Your mother is just as stupid as you are. I can see where you get that pitiful sense of ignorance"

Max could feel the anger boiling under his skin. He hated that Sebastian had heard his mother sing him to sleep. It bothered him to know that not only had this older boy been eavesdropping, he'd the nerve to mock that intimate moment with his mother. And even though he knew not to anger his opponent, Max did just that.

"Don't you think it's not the time to be saying 'Yo' Mama' jokes now? Even though I'd love to…"

Before Max could finish, he felt his head snapped to the side, his jaw throbbing in pain. He put his hand to his cheek, feeling as the spot where Sebastian hit him swelled. Sebastian was staring down at him in disgust.

"You stupid little Angel," he continued to sneer "How old are you? Five? Seven?"

"I'm nine," Max said defiantly.

"Whatever. You did have long enough to live. It's such a pity to die so young."

"So, it was you who was climbing the demon towers!"

Sebastian smirked, "It took you long enough, you stupid little Angel" He raised his hand to strike him once more; this time, he'd deliver a blow that he wouldn't walk away from.

Max stared at him in horror.

He was going to die. He was going to _die…_

Wasn't his life supposed to flash before his eyes? All he could do was think of how stupid he was to tell anyone what he saw. All he should have done was tell himself it was a figment of his imagination and to go back to sleep. Not knowing was better than knowing; he could thank his family in their attempt at keeping him blissfully naïve.

Sebastian brought his hand down brutally. Upon impact, Max's head felt like it was going to explode. His vision was being dotted out in black. The darkness swarmed together, swallowing his vision and sense of direction. The next moment, he was numb and felt like he was falling into blackness; only thought remained;

_Ignorance _is_ bliss_

**AN:**

**A link to A la Claire fontaine, Maryse's lullaby, is in my profile if you want the whole song and translation. **

**I would like to thank Emily Bowden for agreeing to Beta read and her help on editing these chapters. Without her help, this story would be plain bad….no, real bad. **

**Reviews are still kindness!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Valentine's Day **

********

Pretending to be Sebastian Verlac had been too simple of a mission, and thus, very tedious. All he had to do was dye his white blond hair to a dark shade of black and dispose of the original Sebastian Verlac. With the help of his servants and unnatural magic capabilities, he had gained full knowledge of Sebastian Verlac and his memories.

Now, being able to recall any memory of Sebastian's with his family at will, the Penhallows had welcomed him as their beloved cousin. Frankly, it was ridiculous how the Penhallows had forgotten that Sebastian had a large nose. A very unforgettably large nose; which oddly made for a well-placed target once Jonathan decided to attack the boy and assume his identity.

Finally, the night would be the very last that he would have to play Sebastian Verlac. It had been painstakingly boring, worse than any torture he had endured. The next morning, he'd be himself again, back to being Jonathan Morgenstern, the _only _son of Valentine Morgenstern. The Clave was under the impression that Jace was Valentine's son; the pathetic Angel boy was worthless of any proper Nephilim name, much less Morgenstern. Jonathan was _not _in any way charitable to the pitiful golden boy that his father tried desperately to replace his own son with. In the upcoming days, there would be only _one _Jonathan Morgenstern; he would make sure of that.

Smirking, Jonathan towered over the now unconscious boy sprawled on the kitchen floor, his shadow casting an eerie shade over the limp body. He'd knocked out Max in only one blow and was now entertaining himself with the various avenues of murder. He could take him while he was out, make sure the boy's death was quick and quiet. A slit of the jugular would be too sloppy, too much to clean up after. He could bash his skull in, but again, messy. Perhaps he'd suffocate the boy, deprive his body of oxygen until he found his eternal sleep. But where was the fun in that? Jonathan raised his right hand, wielding his silver dagger and advanced on the boy.

_He won't feel a thing…._

It was safe to say that Jonathan regretted immobilizing the boy before exterminating him. It would've been better to keep him awake and endure the excruciating suffering. His screams of torment and vain pleas to spare him would certainly indulge Jonathan's sadism.

Alas, Max's screams would also alarm Isabelle and send her rushing to her brother's rescue. One witness would be too many, and Jonathan would have to kill Isabelle as well. Murdering Isabelle wasn't something he planned to do; violating her, perhaps, would've fit his tastes.

And of course, his father did place the emphasis on 'no murders'. Jonathan sighed; what his father didn't know wouldn't hurt him. The two Lightwoods could've easily been victims of some other demons, no one would be wiser. Besides, since when had he obeyed his father?

Resolution screamed at his subconscious as Jonathan knelt at Max's body. _The boy dies_…

He pressed his blade to the base of Max's jugular; it would be a swift, effortless death. Jonathan closed his eyes in the near silence, reveling in the anticipation that swelled in the moment before the kill. All that could be heard was the steady pounding of the boy's heart, timing his last seconds of life. In that few seconds of pause, Jonathan noticed that for a small child who was unconscious, his heartbeat was exceptionally odd.

Max's heart was unnaturally strong; it was stronger than any Jonathan had ever heard. Even stronger than Jace's; the boy his father favored over him. The similarity was too prominent for Jonathan's liking, and he found his resolve to end the boy's life thicken. He found the nine year old to be as a possible threat; even more of a threat than Jace, perhaps.

He had been incredibly forward with his taunts and teases of the small, inexperienced child, not really caring if he spooked him or not. He didn't think at the time that he bothered Max so much because he had any special ability at detecting evil, perhaps he did. Even more reason to end his life.

Jonathan applied pressure to his knife and began to slit the young boy's throat. In a split second, the temperature in the room dropped to below freezing. Jonathan's wrist stopped, paralyzed. He urged it to continue its motion to no avail; it would only shake and tremble. He frowned, looking down at his immobilized hand with a morbid fascination; he had never hesitated in ending a person's existence and there was no reason to pause now. But his hand began to tremble and he involuntarily dropped the knife.

A cutting, nefarious aura began to percolate from Max's small frame. With a snarl, Jonathan grabbed the hidden knife at his back and brought it down on Max. Before hitting the boy, the knife shattered into a dozen pieces, tinkling as they hit the floor.

Suddenly, an electric current shot through Max's body and to Jonathan's. Jonathan hissed as he was forced to his knees and began to convulse. He locked his jaw in order not to utter a moan;

_Where did that come from?_

Jonathan didn't understand what was happening and he tried to fight against the strong force upon him. The shock only increased in intensity, and Jonathan started to writhe on the floor. He began to chant in a whisper.

"_In nomen de Lucifer, plurimus vox, quod vestri addo, audite meus to order. Subsisto, lux lucis de tempestas_"

The shock stopped to his command, and an incredulous Jonathan shakily rose to his feet. Trying to make sense of what had happened, he scanned the room quickly. He couldn't hear an additional heart beat, and came to the conclusion that there was no other being that stopped his assault on Max.

He refused to believe that a nine year old boy could ever force him into to such a state of pain. It was impossible, and if the currents hadn't been emitted from Max's body, he wouldn't have considered that it was him at all. The boy was nine… _nine_, barely the age to have known any magic at all. And if he had known a protective spell, he was unconscious and therefore unable to use it.

The magic had to have come from another source; there was no other logical explanation. But from where? Who could've done it?

Jonathan whirled around the room, his eyes landing on the table where a manga book lay open to a page. He at once recognized it as one of the ridiculous forms of Max's entertainment. Telling by the kanji writing, it had to be Naruto. He walked up to the book in pure curiosity and stared dumbfounded.

The page staring up at him was indeed a fight scene. One character had been surrounded by four others and had discharged electricity through his body, shocking two of his attackers. It was the same defensive force that had been inflicted upon him. Jonathan stared from the illustration to the unconscious boy.

He flipped the page to another picture. The same character was shone standing with electric currents still issuing from his body. Gazing at Max with murderous intent, he felt the same aura from before, and lightning flowed from the boy's body. This time, it didn't attack Jonathan but mirrored the picture from the manga.

_Mimicry…_

Jonathan had a rogue thought that Max wasn't human. Maybe, he was something more. If his origins were not strictly human, it would explain what Jonathan had just witnessed. But he didn't seem to be some mutative offspring of a Downworlder. So what was the difference?

And there was a difference, his heart beat and mimicry could prove that. Sure, Nephilim were half angels and some had additional powers, but there was a demonic origin coming from Max's aura. Much too cold and dark to be that of an Angel. He could be one of his father's experiments, Jonathan thought bitterly.

It was true; the Lightwoods were in the Circle and trusted Valentine deeply. The boy's age coincided with the time right after the infamous Uprising. If the boy was one of his father's experiments, perhaps he would have been exposed in utero. But who could've been the proprietor? Hodge, his father's obedient henchman could've have done it. He was after all, exiled to New York along with the Lightwoods. Weak, worthless, cowardly Hodge, under Valentine's orders, could've created a super warrior out of a Lightwood child.

If that was the case, then Valentine would love to meet Max. He could be of some use for their cause, and if he wasn't worth it after all, he could serve for a ransom demand; that would be fine enough.

Isabelle had been in her room for three minutes and if his servant, Tisiphone had hidden her stele well, there would be time to fabricate Max's death. Quietly, he whistled for his demon servant, and she arrived in a flush of the shadows.

"_Yesss, Massster," _the demon was a Fury demon with a wrinkly, furry body, scaly bat wings, and the tail and tongue of a serpent.

"Retrieve me body of a boy; preferably a small one, like this one," he ordered, gesturing to Max.

"_Would you like me to kill thisss one?"_

"No. We need this one alive."

"_Asss you wissshh, Massster."_ And with a flap of her great wings, Tisiphone disappeared and more screams could be heard from outside of the house, a sign that she had joined in the massacre.

In another flutter of dust and shadow, Tisiphone was crouching at Jonathan's feet, producing a very dead boy. "_My Massster."_

Jonathan smiled, "Very good." He bent over the corpse. In a hurried rush of demonic language, the boy's features began to change until it was a doppelganger of Max, except being very pale and slightly blue in the lips. His cause of death would be ruled as asphyxiation.

Jonathan smirked over his work; and now, for Isabelle…

*********

The cool night's breeze and thin pajamas woke Max with a start. He wasn't dead, as he had assumed. He starkly recalled Sebastian's hand coming towards him, attempting to deliver the final, mortal blow. He didn't know what had happened to change that outcome.

The strong wind was blowing his hair, causing a rocking feeling around him. He realized that he wasn't in the Penhallow's kitchen anymore. Instead of killing him, Sebastian had kidnapped him.

Max was careful not to open his eyes too much so as to not alarm his captive of his consciousness. Slightly squinting, he saw that he was levitated slightly above the ground. Whatever was taking him was moving very fast. A horse, he thought. He felt something solid behind him, keeping him from toppling over. Whatever it was held him steadfast, not allowing an inch of flexibility. He was resolutely stuck without hopes of escape at the moment. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander.

Why had Sebastian climbed the demon towers? Why were there demons in the city? Where was Jace? Were Alec and Isabelle okay? And his parents? Why hadn't Sebastian killed him? Where was he taking him?

The horse slowed its pace and with a grunt began its gradual stop. The pressure against his back left, indicating that Sebastian had leaned back.

"It's no use pretending, I know you're awake."

Max mentally cursed himself; there was no use in planning anything against Sebastian for he seemed to know everything. With a shove against his back, Max found himself spiraling toward the ground, landing with a dull thud on his shoulder.

Max stared up at Sebastian's steed. He was as large and as majestic as he was terrifying. The color was a midnight black, perfect camouflage for the dead of night. His eyes, however, were a startling crimson, and he neighed as he caught sight of Max evaluating him.

Sebastian had noiselessly dismounted and finished freeing the horse of the saddle and bridle. With a smack on the rear, the great horse galloped into the night.

"His name is Achelous," Sebastian said in a low voice, his white blond hair blowing in the wind. Max didn't know when it had been changed from the stark black it was before, but he could still see the remnants of black streaks in the young man's hair. Before he could ask him, Sebastian grabbed Max by the collar and pulled him towards the entrance of a cave.

"Where are you taking me?" Max asked.

Sebastian looked down at him considerately before deciding to tell him, "My father, Valentine, would want to see you."

_Valentine?_

He started to put things together. He had overheard his parents and siblings discuss Valentine over the course of a couple weeks. There were even whispers in Alicante about how Valentine was plotting against the Clave. Was Sebastian working with Valentine? Was he truly the enemy's son? With a sinking feeling, Max remembered Sebastian questioning him about seeing someone climb the Wards outside the city. The dark boy seemed adamant about that point as he'd stalked Max in the kitchen. Was he the only one Max had seen? Did he allow the demons into the city? Was Valentine working with demons? Why?

He was a Shadowhunter; he was supposed to _kill _demons, not work with them. What could've possibly brought this man to the point of insanity to where he would associate himself with _demons_? His name?

Max thought that having a name that correlated with the day of love would be really hard as a child. He could only imagine how much Valentine would've been teased by his classmates when he was younger. Max himself would be heckled by his peers simply because of his like for anything fantasy: comics or movies alike. But to be named after some goodie two shoes Saint, the ridicule was probably endless. Maybe Valentine's mind was even warped even back then. Maybe all this hatred of the Clave was wrought when he was a child. He knew it was a silly theory, but there _had_ to be a catalyst to Valentine's slip in reality.

Max kept up his internal debate until his captor stopped in the dim cave, it wasn't very damp as the caverns were often depicted and didn't have any bats that Max could see. The only similarity to a stereotypical cave was the darkness and the endless wide, tunnels that occasionally drip from a mysterious source of water.

"You're late, Jonathan," a deep voice full of disappointment echoed from far into the tunnel; a very tall, burly man emerged into view. He looked about the same height and had a similar muscular build as Robert Lightwood, with broad shoulders and a wide chest. Instead of raven colored hair, he had cropped, white hair and dark, uncaring eyes. The man's black gaze raked over Sebastian, disgust poorly masked. He finally landed on Max, his eyes flashing with rage. "What is this, Jonathan?"

Max stared at the big man in surprise; why he had called Sebastian, Jonathan? And earlier on, Sebastian had called Valentine 'his father'. That didn't make at all sense him; Jace was also Valentine's son, and _his _name was Jonathan. There couldn't be two Jonathan Morgensterns with the same parents, could there? Max glanced back at "Sebastian", he looked somewhat like Valentine, with the same facial structure, white hair and black eyes. Jace, on the other hand, looked nothing like the man who claimed to be his father.

"This is one of the Lightwood children, father. He happened to see someone climb the demon towers, and I couldn't leave behind witnesses and you specifically told me not to kill anyone, so…" Jonathan answered.

"You killed Hodge as well as allowed that warlock, Bane, to obtain the Book of White," Valentine shot back.

"I'll get the Book of White later," Jonathan dismissed. "And Hodge was worthless. But this one," he pointed at Max, "may be of some use to our cause."

"Very well," Valentine nodded and turned his gaze to Max.

"You're Maryse's son?" Max nodded and resisted the urge to turn from the big man's predatory gaze. Valentine began to circle the young boy as if sizing him up. "Really? You look nothing like her," he mused continuing to examine the young boy's figure. "A bit runty, too. How old are you?"

Max looked down and answered, "I'm nine." He was feeling slightly uncomfortable with Valentine behind his back.

"You don't look like Robert either." Max didn't know what to make of Valentine's comments, nor if he should be taking offense to it. "You're too small for your age, too."

"Do you know who you remind me of?" Valentine directed his question at Max and then answered it in turn. "My old friend, Hodge Starkweather." Max glared as the man suggested that his mother had been unfaithful

"He's a Lightwood," Jonathan said quietly.

"Trueblood, yes. But—"

"Lightwood, too," Jonathan cut his father off, "I can sense both Lightwood _and_ Trueblood in him. There's no Starkweather. You know it too, so you might as well stop trying to test the boy's patience. I was originally going to kill him, but something stopped me; and you should be grateful that another one of your experiments has just been saved."

Max took notice at that remark. _Experiment?_ Was he an experiment?

Valentine's eyes grew hungry, although he had hoped that the girl would be the one he needed. This child was just too small and didn't look capable of anything special.

"Yes, it's true," he admitted. "I believe he is from that sample. Hodge, I should say, was a very obedient servant. Anything I would ask of him, he would do, although out of fear. Very well planned out, I should say, and time can only tell if Hodge's theory was correct."

Now having two experiments, one with demon's blood and the other with angel, Valentine summoned another angel in hopes for various results. He began to wonder what would be the outcome of a child with the blood of a fallen angel, and then chose to summon Armaros, the angel of enchantments. Hodge had also been present when the angel was summoned. It was agreed that in exchange for the blood, his right shoulder would scream in pain to the slightest touch, easily passable as a war injury.

Valentine was ecstatic knowing Hodge would be exiled to New York along with the Lightwoods, who would be capable of having more children. Malachi allowed Hodge to leave before the prosecution to retrieve the vials containing the blood. In addition to the fallen angel's blood, he also gathered the remaining vial of Lady Edom's blood along with another demon's.

Under Valentine's instructions, Hodge discreetly gave Maryse the blood in her food while she was pregnant. Hugin would always inform his master of Hodge's obedience. With Isabelle, Hodge gave Maryse the last of Lady Edom's blood. After the side effects, however, she began to mistrust him, guarding herself more thoroughly and he was unable to continue with the "treatment."

Although only used once, it affected Isabelle greatly. Her humanity would still be intact; one month of continuous consumption by the mother while the child was in the womb was needed for that to fade away. Though, the demon blood has helped her in hunting; especially with the element of seduction. It could also be evidenced in her black eyes and why faeries allow her into their lair with no hassles.

Hodge, didn't want the remaining blood to go to waste, and decided that next time he would use both angel _and _demon blood. He hypothesized that they would cancel each other's worse qualities and yet gift the child with power. They would also cancel the side-effects and Maryse wouldn't be able to sense anything wrong.

And then, his chance came. After seven years, Maryse became pregnant again. Hodge was able to give her both bloods for the complete nine months and Max became the fifth experiment. Valentine could now only hope that Hodge's theory worked and the properties of the combating blood hadn't canceled each other altogether.

"So you knew who I was?" Max asked, his mind whirling at the implications of what Valentine's words inferred.

"Of course, I knew," Valentine answered. "Hugin tells me everything. I wanted to see if Jonathan would notice your abnormality, if you had any special talent whatsoever. And now that it's evident that you do, you need proper training, nothing your parents can provide for. You need to fight for the right cause: _my_ cause."

"My family— "Max began, his voice slightly trembling

"You don't need them any longer. Haven't they always brushed you off? Ignored you? You're mine now."

"Why are you doing this?" Max asked, angry tears forming at the edge of his lids.

"Your parents took my son and destroyed him with their love, softening his warrior instincts to kill; I will take their son and teach him to slit their throats," Valentine snarled in justification. "The world needs more warriors to clean the impurities of this world. The Clave is corrupted, allying themselves with filthy Downworlders and I will change that. Jonathan, take our guest into a spare room. In the morning transfer him to the safe house."

Max stared at Valentine; he was crazy—no, he was _insane. _He was talking about creating half-demon children and yet wanting to destroy Downworlders, who themselves were half-demons. And then the man allies himself with demons, the very thing he hated.

_What the hell? It was the name that made him certifiable; definitely the name… _

Jonathan grabbed Max's arm none too gently and dragged him down another tunnel, leaving Valentine to observe the water drops on the ceiling of the cave. "Walk, you stupid Angel," he said as soon as they were out of his father's sight. During the whole time Valentine was explaining his experiments, Jonathan was glaring at his father with extreme hatred, and if possible, jealousy.

It was quite obvious now; Jace wasn't Valentine's son, Jonathan was. Not only that, but Valentine favored Jace over his own son. Max tried to imagine what it would have been like, being replaced by a total stranger. Having to live without a mother and have a father that was disgusted by him. He supposed he would hate Jace as well as any other of his father's experiments.

They arrived at a room at the end of the tunnel. It had a wooden door and a lock. Jonathan shoved the boy in and bolted the door. "It's a pity that father took a liking to you. I would've loved to make you scream as your life slipped away." He left with Max lying on the cold, hard floor alone.

Max was much too tired and confused to care of his sleeping arrangements; the surface of the cave would do. To top it off, he was captured by 'Hitler numero dos'—who didn't look as if he was going to commit suicide any time soon—and a psycho albino with homicidal tendencies. He longed for his family and cried himself to sleep.

00000000

_Max was back in the Penhallow's kitchen, watching the horrible confrontation with Sebastian play out in front of him. But rather than participating in the scene, he was witnessing it, hovering above it like some sort of spectra. He could see his dead body in the corner, pale and blue in the face. Sebastian had strangled him. Isabelle was lying near the stove, blood flowing from her head, her shallow breathing the only indication that she was still alive. _

_He could hear someone break the front door down. Footsteps clattered as he watched the casting light of a witchlight illuminate the room from underneath the kitchen door. His parents had come. _

"_Alec! Isabelle! Max!"_ _his_ _parents called, sounding exceedingly worried. They burst into the kitchen, the witchlight illuminating their path. _

"_Isabelle!"_ _his mother gasped and knelt to her_ _daughter's body. She gently traced an iratze on her skin and propped her head onto her lap. Isabelle's eyes began to flutter open and Robert crouched down to his daughter as well. _

_ "Max" she whispered "Where's Max?"Robert stood up and shone his witch light throughout the whole room, desperately searching for his youngest son. It stopped at the corner where a body lay very limp. The witch light stone clattered to the floor. _

_The scene changed. Max was no longer in the Penhallow's home, he was in the Accord's Hall where families were looking for each other. He spotted his family by the dais. His father was sitting on the floor, holding his tattered body; Alec was kneeling on the ground grasping one of his small hands. His mother was embracing Isabelle who was sobbing inconsolably. Jace was looking on, expressionless and empty. _

_Suddenly, the air whooshed around him; he wasn't in the Accords Hall any longer and neither were his family. They were in a house, not the Penhallow's. He watched numbly as the vision began to show different clips of his family, all in various stages of morning. Isabelle was in her room, throwing her possessions, screaming, and sobbing. Alec was also in his room, sitting on the bed, his head in his hands. His parents were in their room and it seemed that his mother was crying into her husband's shoulder. Jace was in his room, lying in his bed, staring hollowly up at the ceiling. _

_He longed to be with them, to comfort them and tell them that he wasn't dead. He was alive and breathing. _

000000000

"Wake up, little Angel."

Max awoke to Jonathan kneeling over him; a sneer was plastered on his face. He didn't have time to cringe away as he was hauled to his feet by his hair. He decided that complying would hurt a lot less and voluntarily walked as Jonathan led him through the cave and outside. Achelous was grazing, fully tacked, and looked up at his master's approach.

Jonathan ran his hand on the horse's muzzle before taking the reins and turned the horse in order to mount him. Quickly, he then effortlessly placed Max onto the saddle before mounting himself. He clicked his tongue once and the horse began a quick trot down the valley.

Max sat in silence, not knowing where he was off to. He wanted to know where he was being taken, but when he opened his mouth to talk, nothing but air came out. Jonathan, having been able to hear puffs of air, snickered.

"A Rune of Silence. Don't bother," he told the boy. "You were going to ask where you're going, right?"

Max nodded and Jonathan continued. "The safe house, but I thought that you might like to take a little detour." The cruelty in his voice made the hairs on Max's neck stand. Just where was Jonathan taking him?

He soon found out that Achelous was a fast horse, and Jonathan, indeed, was a sadist. They were now on the top of the hill overlooking the necropolis. There was a small group in their mourning whites at the base of the hill; they were surrounding a slab of white marble that held a body.

Max stiffened, it was _his_ body on the marble stone. His family was gathered around him, his dream was reality; they had truly thought he was dead. He whirled and glared at Jonathan. He knew that the other boy wanted to make him suffer and this was the one way he could get away with Valentine's command not to harm him.

"Don't you want to see your family?" Jonathan asked, poison dripping from the words. "It may be the last time you see them." With that, he turned Max to face the mourner's procession.

Max looked down on them. His parents were in the middle, holding each other's hands. Alec was right by them, staring at the sky above his brother's body while Jace stood a few steps away, staring blankly at the marble. Isabelle was missing from the scene.

Another figure cut into view, this one holding a flaming torch. They had finished saying the last words and the poem, _Ave Atque Vale_. As a tradition, the body was to be burned. The fire touched his chest and engulfed the whole body in flame and smoke. His mother pressed her face into his father's chest.

Max screamed, but nothing other than air came out. Perhaps if he screamed so loud that they could faintly hear the air puffs and turn around to see him. Jonathan was silently laughing at his despair. "Time to go, little Angel," and spurred Achelous on.

It was no use to struggle with Jonathan; his arms were iron bars, and Max's plan to fling himself off the horse and sprint back to his family proved to be faulty as he couldn't even shift his weight.

They finally reached the safe house which happened to be yet another cave. This one had two ugly, wrinkled, winged and foul smelling demons on either side of the entrance. Again, Max was shoved off Achelous and rose to his feet, not bothering to wipe the tears that ran down his red eyes. Jonathan unbridled his horse, deciding that he was going to walk for his return destination and let Achelous canter into the dark forest.

This time, Jonathan used Max's arm sleeve to drag him into the cave, smirking at the shrieks of demon laughter. He stopped at a barred cell. _An actual dungeon_, Max thought as he unceremoniously crashed onto the hard surface. His shoulder screamed in agony as he moaned, gripping it; it had probably been dislocated. The iron bars slammed close with Jonathan staring down at him, black soulless eyes gleaming in excitement, "Enjoy the silence."

**AN:**

**The story is finally moving!!**

**Muchos gracias to my beta, Emily Bowden—I have learned more grammar from you than all my teachers (the educational system can cry now…)**

**Reviews are kindness!**

…**..they really are **


	4. Chapter 4

**The Mortal Instruments characters belong to Cassandra Clare. I own Cicero, and the three others. All characterizations, plot lines, and ideas belong to ****a-person-with-a-fanfiction.**** Please do not copy or reproduce without written permission. **

**Chapter 4: Of Breaking Dawn and Silence **

_"The dawn will break the silence, screaming in our hearts"_

_

* * *

_

The door slammed shut, echoing the last noise that Max would hear in a prolonged amount of time. There was a harsh grating sound that scraped his ear drums before blissful silence; he couldn't hear further sounds beyond the large steel aperture.

Max slowly eased himself in a sitting position, trying to ignore the throbbing in his shoulder, and studied his surroundings. The dungeon, it seemed, had no openings to allow the light to filter in; for he couldn't see his own legs as he glanced down. In a world of darkness, precisely like the nightmares that had come to haunt his sleep, Max idly wondered if those dreams had foreshadowed his current situation.

He figured it was pointless to aimlessly feel his way for the door. One; Jonathan wouldn't be as stupid as to leave it unlocked. Two; if he _did _choose not to bolt the door, there were two particularly nasty looking demons standing guard outside. And finally, three; why would he risk banging his head or other limbs on the stone walls?

Max decided to lie back down and stare at the ceiling he couldn't see. Overwhelmed by his fluttering emotions and witnessing the most sorrowful scene of his short life, he allowed himself to drift in soft slumber.

00000000

_When he opened his eyes, he could see light. The rays of the sun beamed down at him, stroking his skin and hair with warmth. A faint breeze rustled the spring green grass, as well as his hair, which he noticed was longer than he usually kept it. Tilting his head back and closing his eyes, he reveled in the smell of life carried in the air. It was a definite change from the dark dungeon. _

_Opening his eyes, he saw the small flowers blooming, nestled among the grass. His shadow cast long shade over the ground when he realized that he was higher from the ground than normal, but not as high as he would be had he been on a horse. _

_Max stumbled around, turning every few seconds, in the excitement to explore his dreamscape, his own private paradise. It was as he thought a perfect day would be. The sun and cool wind balanced out each other perfectly, so that he wasn't sweating or shivering—blissfully comfortable. The grass grew in pure green blades, without a speck of yellow or brown, without the interference of a single weed. Wild flowers grew in almost every color, and were soft to the touch when he bent to caress one. _

_At the end of the meadow sat tall trees, marking the opening of a grand forest. Unlike the field he stood in, the forest was dark, obscured by the fog and shadow of the large evergreens. When the wind blew again, the trees swayed and seemed to call to him, beckoning him closer. _

_A stone bench stood at the entrance of the wood, a figure sitting on it, staring morosely at the bush of yellow flowers near her. The figure sitting was very familiar to Max's eyes: pale skin, dark clothes, and long black hair; he instantly recognized his mother. _

_ He called to her, his voice unable to suppress his joy. Hearing his voice, his mother looked up in surprise, and rose quickly off the bench. _

_ "Max," she whispered, barely audible to his ears. Her voice held sorrow, longing, and love. Her eyes were brimming with tears of happiness, something Max hadn't seen or imagined he would see; his mother crying. She held out her arm to reach to him, her fingers laced with the scars of runes and injury. _

_He started to jog forward, as soon as he was a few feet away from his mother, a tall shadow loomed over her.  
_

"_Mom!" he screamed, "Behind you!" She barely had any time to react. In a series of quick movements, the shadow stabbed her from behind, a silver blade protruding from her chest. Her scarlet blood stained her pale lips, dark clothes, and the petals of the black-eyed susans. The phantom jerked the sword back, and silently as it came, withdrew into the dark forest. Only held up by the blade, she collapsed, the blood from her wound flowing into the grass. _

_Max ran towards his fallen mother, her blue eyes were still on him, and she whispered faintly once more, "Max."_

_ "No!" he screamed; he tried to run faster but only seemed to be getting further away. Darkness had collected around him enclosing him into its oblivion until he couldn't see. _

_0000000_

Max shot up, his heart hammering against his ribs, he was panting heavily. A river of sweat and tears ran down his face, moistening his skin and parched lips.

_It was a dream. Just a dream…_.

_Mom is safe. She's not dying— no—she can't die. 'Cause she's supermom… _

He repeated the mantra in his mind, trying to assure himself that nothing could bring his mother down; it was the same lines he would repeat to himself whenever she went out demon hunting alone.

He had no idea how much time went by since he fell asleep, but he could feel hunger build up in his stomach, and his throat was dry with thirst. His shoulder was stiff and if he tried to move it, pain shot through it like a burning arrow. He still was wearing his pajamas and the freezing cold of the cell made his skin break out with goose bumps.

Somehow, he found himself praying that Valentine and Jonathan would return soon; the darkness was too frightening, and he could only see black. The eerie silence was also unnerving; he tried to speak, but nothing—not even the puffs of air—would sound. It was quite maddening. He found it extremely hard even to think; he attempted to recall his mother's lullaby, but could only remember the chorus. He figured that soon enough, he would be messing that up as well.

Time seemed to creep by as he lay in the cell, flat on his back, careful not to jostle his shoulder. His hunger and thirst increased tenfold, and hopelessness took over his mind. What if Valentine and Jonathan never meant to come back for him?

He took to counting seconds. By the time he reached seventeen, he was jumbling the numbers, and abandoned that form of entertainment.

Soon the silence became too unbearable. He was dying to hear anything; the screeching of finger nails on chalk board, the whirling of a blender, honking of rush hour traffic, even the shrieking of demons.

He tried to keep his thoughts away from the nightmare, from his mother. They were too painful to dwell on. Part of him wanted to know what his family was doing, wondering if they missed him or not. But the thoughts of them leading their lives without him made him incredibly sad, and he felt his eyes pool up with tears.

Max blinked and allowed the tears to flow in the trail made by their predecessors, the salty fluid when dried turned his cheeks red.

_Wait…._

He noticed that light was beginning to stream from beneath the steel door. He hadn't noticed it until now, when the door began to open, as if slowly pushed by someone's leaning weight. The witch light rune stone in the hallway was the source of illumination, a pair of black leather boots stepped into the small pool of gleam.

Max could feel a _pop _in his ears and then could hear the soft _clomping _of heavy boots. He tilted his head back and saw Jonathan, with his usual hollow glare, towering over him.

"So, you're still alive…." Jonathan spoke with a touch of regret in his voice. Max tried to glare back; it had been obvious that the teenager had wanted him to rot in the dark cell. "You can speak now, you idiot! The rune is off!" he added harshly.

When Max didn't respond, Jonathan grabbed him by his injured shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh, and dragged him deeper into the cell. Max cried out in pain; it felt like his shoulder was being torn out of its socket. The shadow in the room gathered around them in sweeping motions, enveloped them in swirling black, it soon started to spin in a dark tornado.

He started to feel the effects of vertigo and closed his eyes to diminish the feeling. Only when he felt steady did he open his eyes, and noticed different surroundings. They were in a new room, another safe house, probably. He was shoved once more, and slammed into the wall, sliding to floor in a sitting position.

This room was larger than the others and was decorated sparsely. An ornate chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling with candles that sparkled as if they were stars. A wooden table offered a loaf of bread, bottle of wine, wheel of cheese, bowl of fruit, and several wine glasses. Max's stomach ached at the sign of food. Jonathan was leaning on a chair; he was looking quite worse for wear.

Max assumed that the blond boy had gotten into a fight, his body and clothes showed telltale signs. The dark, nondescript clothing he was wearing had dark stains in patches. One of the sleeves was completely missing, baring a pale arm up to the elbow. A thick purple line that resembled a from of sutures, formed a bracelet around the wrist. A segment of his white blond hair was uneven, as if someone had butchered it off, and Max had to resist the urge to ask who had cut his hair.

"What are you looking at?" Jonathan snapped, "I'm not a national monument." Max lifted his eyes to Jonathan's soulless ones; there was black rage burning uncontrolled.

"I'm just…hungry," Max found his voice; it sounded weak, vulnerable, and young.

Jonathan's lip curled in a familiar, sadistic smile. "Of course." He turned to the table and picked up the white loaf, tossing it back and forth in his slender hands. His dark eyes filled with contempt as he watched Max's gray ones dart with the movements of the bread, "You want this?"

Max weakly nodded; he felt as if he was going to collapse if he didn't eat anything soon. Jonathan broke off a small piece of bread and tossed it at the young boy's feet. "Go on, eat it. " Max stiffened as more bread littered the ground around him.

"Come on, you dog. Eat! Don't you want to grow up to be big and strong?" Jonathan continued to taunt. Max refused to obey, to give Jonathan pleasure and disgrace himself.

"What's wrong, stupid Angel? I thought you said you were hungry. Be a good little Angel, and eat your food," Jonathan said with a twisted smile.

"Where's my family?" Max asked, curious to know what had become of his family, especially his mother.

"What?" Jonathan seemed surprised at the change of subject, and the boy's boldness.

"My family, "Max repeated, "Where are they?"

Jonathan shrugged, "I don't know. Why should I care what happens to your shit family? I could only pray that they're all dead. "

Max's blood boiled with anger, he was about to fire a retort until one of the winged demons fluttered in the room.

"_Masssster, it is dawn. They have arrived," _it hissed, and took off.

Jonathan nodded and pointed at the wasted food around Max. Another demon appeared and used its mouth as a suction; absorbing all the bread.

_How handy, a vacuum machine……_

Three tall, hooded figures walked through the door. The tallest was on the left side; it had wider shoulders than the other slimmer ones—a male, Max presumed. The one in the middle was a step ahead of its companions; it seemed this was the leader of the small band.

The leader lifted their chin in greeting, "Jonathan Morgenstern." Its voice was soft, melodic, and clearly feminine.

Jonathan nodded back, and welcomed them, "I am grateful for your decision—"

The hooded male cut him off with a chuckle, "Save your gratitude for when we actually achieve the goal."

"It's not impossible, you know. The majority of the Shadow world wants the downfall of the Clave." Jonathan reasoned.

"We know," the male agreed, "I have no doubts that this time, with _our _help, the Clave _will _fall."

"You're a damn, cocky fool. " The second female spoke, for the first time. There was something in her voice that seemed chastising, like the way Isabelle often spoke to Jace, Max's heart pained at the similarity.

"I only speak the truth," The male replied, light and confident.

"Really?" the female interjected with her silvery voice.

"Enough!" the leader cut in, "This is _not _the time to have a sibling fight!" Her subordinates both bowed their heads in submission and obedience.

She turned back to Jonathan, "You will have to forgive them. We will fight for your cause; it's not as hopeless as your father's had been. But we will only do as you have stated in the negotiations, and no more."

Max could only wonder—where was Valentine? Did Jonathan have his own plan to destroy the Clave? Had he betrayed his father?

"Is that the boy?"

Max looked up, all attention was on him for the first time since the three strangers entered the room.

"Yes. That's Valentine's last experiment, "Jonathan answered.

The leader was staring at him, and even though Max couldn't see her eyes, he felt very nervous with her gaze on him. At last she turned back to Jonathan.

"Yes, that is him. He will be the one to bring down the Clave. He will need plenty of training to hone his abilities. "

"That can be taken care of, " Jonathan replied.

"And speaking of 'taking care of', you need to take better care of _him_!" The silvery female shot at him. Jonathan stared in surprise; he hadn't thought that any of them would care of Max's welfare, just that he would be a valuable asset to the cause they all fought for. "You can't work with cripples. Allow me… "

She didn't give Jonathan a chance to agree to anything before she flittered to Max and kneeled to his side. As she bent over, her hood lifted slightly, giving him view of the long, pale, silvery locks. Max was tempted to touch her hair, for it appeared very soft. Her hands were cold, but when they ran over his shoulder, the pain faded away and he was able to flex lightly.

She didn't spare him a look, and went back to her group as fast as she had come to him, leaving Max staring with his mouth hanging open.

"Ah, dear sister, "the male sighed, "Always taking pity on the poor mortals." His sister took no insult to the comment.

"We will be leaving now, "the leader said, and with a gesture to her group they disappeared in swirl of shadows.

Jonathan turned to Max, "Come. Now, "he commanded, and began to walk out the room, stopping at the table to snatch an item from the fruit bowl.

Max obliged, he was relieved that Jonathan hadn't resorted to violence this time, but he didn't want to press his luck and jogged to keep up with the teen.

When Max was trotting at his side, still at a safe distance away, Jonathan thrust his arm out, "Here." In his fist was a red apple. Max hesitated; he didn't trust Jonathan.

"Take it. It's not poisonous," Jonathan said. When Max didn't take the round fruit, he added, "Only the green ones are. "

_So there are poisonous apples…_

"And blue."

Max stared in disbelief, "There are blue apples?"

Jonathan never answered, they had stopped at a door, he wrenched the door open and pointed inside. "In."

Max stepped into the doorway to avoid Jonathan's leg as it came barreling into him, sending him sprawling to the floor. The apple was tossed to his side, rolling behind him. The door was slammed shut, a click indicated that it was locked, and Jonathan's footsteps receded.

Max sighed, and turned around to study his room, grateful that it wasn't a cell. The room was slightly larger than his at home. A plain, double bed with white sheets sat in the middle. There was a wooden bed stand and dresser on either side of the bed. A large, intricately designed mirror hung on the wall adjacent to the bed, and the bathroom was across from it.

"Hey, kid"

Max stopped; what was that? He was sure that he was alone in the room. He shook his head, he was exhausted, if only he could sleep then…..

"Pst. Hey, you. Kid."

Was he hearing voices? Was he that overwhelmed to the point that now he was experiencing hallucinations?

"Kiiiiid. Helllooo. I know you can hear me. "

Was this a mind game? Something Jonathan had planned to drive him crazy? He was driven to find out.

"H-Hello?" he called, his voice quivering with fear and exhaustion.

"Hello!" the mysterious voice answered, it sounded masculine, warm, and good-natured; a definite change from all the menacing voices he had heard all day.

"Wh-where are you?" Max questioned.

"I'm over here!" the voice answered enthusiastically.

"Where?" Max asked, still very confused.

"Behind you!"

Max jumped back, whirling around; he was expecting an ambush. The same voice burst into warm laughter, "I'm not going to attack you." It reassured when Max backed against the bed stand.

"I still don't see you, " Max accused, he was getting more suspicious.

"Actually, you do."

"I _don't _see you!" Max cried, "All I see is the stupid mirror!"

There was a pause and then, "Geez, kid. I'm hurt. We meet each other—for what, two minutes?—and you're already insulting me…" the voice actually sounded genuinely wounded.

"I didn't insult you," Max said.

"You called me stupid," The voice replied.

"No, I didn't," Max frowned, "I called the mir—wait…..Mirror?"

"Yep!" the mirror chirped happily.

Max shook his head and paced around the room muttering, "This is crazy. A mirror. A talking mirror. I'm crazy."

"Actually," the mirror interrupted, "You're not crazy. A bit runty and rude, but that can be fixed."

Max stopped his pacing and walked up to the mirror, attempting to examine it closely, a mirror couldn't be talking on its own accord, could it?

"Hi!" it said, when he ignored it, the mirror repeated, "It's rude to stare, you know."

Max backed away. "You...talk?"

"No duh!" the mirror said, "Well noticed, kiddo!"

"You're a mirror," Max stated; he still hadn't recovered from his shock.

"Genius!" the mirror exclaimed, his voice betraying a little sarcasm.

"You're a _mirror,_" Max repeated.

"Genius with short-term memory loss," Mirror said, if he were a person, he would've nodded, "but, nonetheless, a genius indeed!"

There was something in his tone that reminded Max sharply of how Jace would sometimes talk, always sarcastically. Isabelle would describe her adopted brother's way of speech as "dipped and deep-fried in sarcasm". Alec would often scowl; Jace was always getting in trouble with his sarcasm. His father would look nostalgic; Max figured it reminded him of his childhood with his best friends, Michael Wayland and Patrick Penhallow. It would be one of the moments that his mother, who rarely laughed, would do so. Hodge would only observe the scene, smiling sadly.

All these painful reminders were too much for the young boy. He missed his family immensely; he desperately needed to be in their presence. He didn't want to be in this place—God knows where—with an unstable sadist who planned on mass murder and a talking mirror.

He wasn't aware that his legs were moving, carrying him to the bed, and he felt hot tears spill down his cheeks. He hit the soft mattress, curling up in a fetal position, as silent sobs racked his small body. He could hear the mirror calling, but ignored him by hiding under the thick covers.

"Hey kid. Kid. Aw, come on, I didn't mean to make you cry…Kid? Kid?" The calls faded as Max drifted in the soft oblivion know as sleep.

0000000

He fell asleep with the mirror calling him, and he would arise to the mirror calling him. A part of him wanted to tell it to 'shut up' and 'let him sleep'. Another part wanted to throw the pillow, and hope that it would be strong enough to shatter the glass; mirror would eternally be silenced. All of him was glad that it had been the mirror to wake him up and not Jonathan—Max hated to think what methods were used to rouse the "guests"—and that he had slept soundly that night, without the interruption of his usual nightmares.

Finally, the mirror got him to get out of bed, "Wake up, kid. You don't want Jonathan to come here, do you?"

"I'm up, I'm up…" he murmured sleepily.

"What are you waiting for? It's a new day," Mirror's optimism was getting annoying, "The sun is shining, and Jonathan has lots of brand new tortures planned out!"

That was _not _optimistic….

"What?"

"Heh," mirror laughed merrily, "I _knew _that would get your attention. I was joking; I think….but Jonathan wants you awake and dressed in full attire. "

Max glanced in the mirror; the only handy thing it did so far was reflect images. He was still wearing the pajamas that he had been kidnapped on. They were looking a lot worse than they originally were; scrubbed clean and soft. The material was torn and frayed in some areas, and were spotted with stains of grass, dirt, and blood.

"Try the dresser," Mirror suggested, "The stuff you're wearing right now; those won't do."

Max strode over to the dresser and slid it open. His eyes widened in surprise as he explored the dresser's contents. It was stocked with all clothing he would need; he grabbed a few articles and headed to the bathroom to dress.

He came out and admired himself in front of the mirror; the clothing was only a little too big, but fit their purpose and did so nicely. They looked both formal and casual at the same time and allowed for movement like the gear he often saw his siblings wear. Who would've known that black jeans and a white button down shirt, with silk embroidery on the collar, could make him appear more like a true Shadowhunter in training.

Mirror was more than happy to voice his opinions, "Lookin' good, lookin' good. You're the first one since Jonathan to rock that look!"

Max looked up in surprise, "These are Jonathan's clothes?"

"Well, yeah. Where else do you think you got those clothes?" Mirror questioned. Max had thought that the clothing fit fine before, but now hearing that they had been Jonathan's, he was feeling slightly uncomfortable in them and he suppressed a shudder.

"Hey." Max looked up; mirror was speaking again, "Look, we got off on the wrong start yesterday. Maybe we should, you know, start over?"

"O-kay…" His response sounded questioning.

"That's great!" _He's way too cheerful for a mirror, _Max thought. "Turn around!"

Max was confused by the order, but did what he was told.

"Hey. Hey, kid"

_Oh, great……_

That had been the first lines the mirror had said to him. A literal start over. Max decided to go along with it.

"Hello?"

"Hello!" the excited mirror replied happily.

Max turned around the room, "Where are you?"

"I'm behind you!"

Max stopped in front of the ornate mirror, which seemed to be the source of the noise, and paused, "Hello?"

"Hi, there! Congratulations! You've found Waldo!"

_Waldo? _That's_his name?_

"Your name is Waldo?" Max's brow furrowed; Waldo was a very strange name, it sounded too…..Wall-ish—like Walmart, which Max found out recently that was a totally misleading name, for the store most definitely did not sell walls. But then again, K-Mart didn't sell the letter 'K 'either. Max inwardly sighed, his thoughts were straying _way _too far. What did Wal-Mart of K-mart have anything to do with a talking mirror, or its name?

He decided that the essence of his rambling thoughts was that Waldo was not a name suited for a mirror, much less a _talking _mirror. Or any inanimate objects that one planned on naming. Or a child.

_By the Angel!_

His mind was really wandering. This place was really messing with his thought process. Or was it that talking household objects had as well…

"No," Mirror exclaimed, "My name isn't Waldo! That's…yeugh…a horrid name. I'd pity anyone with that name…"

_Same exact thoughts…_

"My name is Cicero, "he replied with some sort of pride in his voice, "Means historian, which is actually very fitting, for I myself am a historian. "

"How are you a historian?" Max asked.

"Patience, child, I'm getting to that, "Cicero chastised. "A historian knows—should know—all major and minor events in history. I have been living forever, and—"

Max cut him off, voice raised in disbelief and excitement, "You've been living forever?"

"Did I not tell you that it was rude to cut people off?" Cicero remarked sharply.

"No. You told me that it was rude to stare…."

"Well now, I did. And now you know not to do so. Rule one in speaking to a historian," he listed, "Never interrupt when they are telling history. You never know when it's going to bite you in the ass."

There was a perceptible pause.

"Meaning that history repeats itself in _small _ways. It'll lay low for a while, and then, BOOM! Holy shit! It fucks you up soo hard, that….I'm not going to even complete that sentence."

The effects of the ancient mirror using common-day swear words did wonders on Max's nine year old ears. Usually, adults considered cursing a "grown-up thing" and he rarely heard it, with his parents censoring both their and his sibling's choice of words. Cicero was immortal; he's been alive _forever_ and _he _didn't bother to watch _his _mouth. And Max quickly realized that he was having his first adult conversation without being excused from the room, and happiness flowed through his body, widening his eyes.

"Go on!" he prompted the eternal mirror eagerly. "Finish the sentence!"

"Ummm…no"

"Please?" Max added.

"Maybe when you're older; how about in eighteen years?"

"How about now?" Max asked.

"Now's not a good time."

"Now's a great time!" Max interjected.

"What about at bedtime?" the mirror suggested, "When you're too tired and sleepy to actually comprehend shit?"

"Awesome!"

"It's settled then," Mirror agreed; he sounded like a doctor in movies, when they were confirming appointments—or those guys in cars with black out windows and shady clothing. Max didn't know what those ominous men did, for he'd never been allowed to watch those movies with them in it, but they looked decisive like mirror had sounded.

The positive side was that a good bedtime story would be very educational and entertaining.

"So, how bad can history fuck you up?" Max asked, trying out the new word he had heard in the previous conversation.

Cicero sighed, "This is why I hate children! Their brains are SPONGES!" he declared, "They suck up everything!"

"And I noticed," he added after a few seconds, "That last line could be a 'that's what she said' moment…"

Max frowned; what was a 'that's what she said' and why was what she said so important? The only thing he noticed was Cicero's comparison of children to sponges. There was a flaw in his statement and he decided to correct that.

"Actually, sponges do absorb everything, but if you squeeze them, all the stuff—or shit—they sucked up is squirted out," he stated in his wise voice. He was careful to add another new word into his 'theory of a sponge'.

Cicero sighed again and remained silent until Max decided to break that silence.

"Would that last line of my sentence be qualified as a 'that's what she said' too?"

"Oh…..my….God…."

Cicero sounded completely mortified, but Max wasn't able to finish his muse aloud.

"That's what she sa—"

The door flew open and one of the winged hags hovered behind it, pointing a jagged claw at Max.

"_Youuu," _it hissed horribly, "_The Massssster isss wannntttinng youuuu_"

Max was about to ask Cicero if the last line in the demon's sentence also a 'that's what she said', as it did seem to fit the routine, but the demon latched onto him and in a flurry of shadow they were suddenly in another room.

This one looked like an old-fashioned library, with towering bookshelves full of thick novels. There was a huge black desk in the back, and a leather chair seated behind it. It was smaller than the Institute's library, but it seemed colder and darker, without a fireplace or candle of some sorts.

"So," an all-too familiar voice cut in, "It seems that you survived the night."

* * *

**AN:**

**Lyrics on the top are a verse to the song Understanding by Evanescence. I do not own that either. **

**Sorry for the late update, I got caught behind a lot of stuff. Including the dreadful evil known as AP and a case of lost USB. **

**That rhymed. Amazing….**

**Thank you, Emily Bowden, for all your help and editing. **

**The talking mirror wants a review, I suggest he gets one, or he might end up giving a lecture on concubines. **


End file.
